The morning came to leave the pristine lake and the monstrous cathedral-spire mountains where we had been camped. We left our perfect meadow home perched on the corner of Spain, Andorra and France and began the descent into the narrow valley. Such a shape-shifting valley too. We would be walking along for ages on what seemed an elevated track only to suddenly become aware of a higher plateau just up to the right with trees and streams and birds flitting about. Effectively turning the track we were walking on into what felt like a narrow ravine. Then the levels would instantly shift again and our ravine would become a narrow ledge with a steep drop to a riverbed below us to the left where cows were grazing. On and on the levels continued to shift and play tricks on our minds. Ravines became plateaus, plateaus became ridges, ridges became claustrophobic crevices and so it went. Down and down we meandered. When we reached what we thought was the end of the mountains; our previous horizon; we found that the mountain range didn’t end, it turned left! And our valley began to rise once again.
We followed an extremely narrow and twisting path of slippery shale up to a saddle of another set of mountains. There below us lay an idyllic landscape. Another bowl of jagged peaks, although not very high or formidable. In the basin of the bowl lay a lake, and just beyond it, a domed hill that for all the world looked like a giant turtle; grown over completely with mosses with a small grove of trees perched right on top of its shell. We instantly named it Turtle-back Hill. We climbed down from the saddle, skirted the lake, and wound our way straight up to the top of the “turtle’s” shell. From the top, you could see the entire bowl-shaped valley. It felt like a sheltered lookout. We found a fire-pit with a view of the lake and set up camp just within the trees where it appeared that many had done the same before us. I felt like I could have stayed there for ages. The more we explored the hill top, the more like home it felt. Tiny trails leading from the fire-pit area wound all over the hill top snaking through trees and abruptly opening up here and there into adorable little rooms. The trees became most lovely and practical furniture.
One tree with lots of stubs of old branches became a coat rack. Another couple of venerable old pine trees contorted with age, had their wide trunks curled down into just the right shape to make a couple of comfortable seats. Branches here and there aligned to create windows peaking out into the valley around, while always conserving just the right amount of privacy. Other branches became racks to air out sleeping bags and hang laundry. There were logs to sit on around the fire and flattish rocks for counters and cutting boards. The ground was soft with pine needles and moss. Within the many rooms of the grove, we found our own separate alcoves and spots to hide away in. Nestled high in the wide arms of one of the many trees we could write or read or just doze off lazily.
From one side of the hill, we watched the sunrise crack like an egg over the sharp peaks and spill its golden light into the valley. From the other, we watched the sun light up the lake before dipping below the saddle of the mountain. Then the moon would rise in all its glory and hang like a silver lamp right above us. At night around the fire-pit we would cook dinner and watch shooting stars. The sense of safety up here on our Turtle’s back was immense. This was one of the few places where that constant animal awareness and slight apprehension that accompanied me when backpacking melted away. The space began to feel like a castle or fortress where I could really relax. Turtle-back Castle became the new name. One of those invisible fairy-like castles – the kind that only looks like a grove of trees on a huge dome-shaped hill to those who weren’t in the know.
I found pages and pages worth of inspiration in that magical spot! I would love to design living spaces based around the sense of dwelling within a space that is actually alive; collaborating and sharing with plants and surrounding nature. I always give nature 5 stars for design!
We left on the most glorious of mornings. We awoke to find our Turtle floating in a sea of fog. During the night it had filled the basin of the valley and our grove of trees was the only visible land apart from the sheer mountain sides and peaks. We were an island, a floating castle on Turtle’s back. It was dreamy! After packing up camp all the while staring around in awe, I couldn’t help myself anymore and went prancing and dancing down into the white fog. It was almost tangible! The sun’s rays though, were beginning to shoo it away. It would slowly stand up in plume like shapes and start to lift into the sky. So elegant and liquid as it swirled. I found a large boulder just starting to peak out from the fog and climbed up on it for one last look back at our floating castle. I absolutely felt like a land mermaid in that moment sitting on a rock in a sea of swirling white fog. Sad as we were to leave, we heaved our packs back on and sunk into the mist.
